Without You
by Snickers and Smirks
Summary: George Weasley never understood the expression, "I can't live without you." Not until the Battle of Hogwarts. He had been appreciating even the smaller things in life ever since. He knew that some things aren't forever, but he only realized then how hard it would be to lose something you've had all your life. He never even imagined them being apart. But now, that was his reality.


_A/N: Right! So, new fanfic. My second one ever. You know those head canons people have? I saw one of George Weasley and basically, here it is when I tried to write about it. This would probably be a three-to-five chapter thing._

_Anyway, reviews and constructive criticism is __**always**__ much appreciated! Please._

**Disclaimer: I do not own George Weasley or any of the characters. Everything belongs to Miss J.K. Rowling. I'm borrowing them, Jo.**

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It was over. The Battle of Hogwarts was done. Lord Voldemort had been defeated. All of that was behind them now, in the past. It was finally here; the conclusion of an era; the dawning of a new chapter of their lives. It was time to let go, and start anew.

Only it was easier said than done.

George Weasley sat among family and friends, relieved, like everyone else. He had a small smile on his face, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. He was a talker, usually, but today, he only listened. Listened as his friends told stories of chivalry. Listened as people around him silently celebrated. Though, some still mourned.

Of course, he, too, relished in the fact that Voldemort was gone. Still, he could not find it in him to be as happy as he could be. After all, there was that one thing that kept ebbing away at him for a while. Finally, he could not take that weight anymore, and so he excused himself.

"Sorry," he muttered. "I'm gonna go take a walk."

His friends looked at each other warily. They knew George was going through a tough time, which was why they were trying to console him by talking. George knew this and went along with it, but he thought they need not act as if there was nothing wrong, because frankly, for him, everything was practically falling apart, no matter how much he tried to ignore and deny that fact.

George kept his gaze on the floor as he wandered through the halls of Hogwarts. When he looked up, he smiled. The third floor. They used to pull a lot of pranks here. He remembered his third year, when they tried to find out what made the Forbidden Corridor so.. _forbidden_. They never found out because of that damn Filch, but still, the thrill they felt was memorable.

He shook his head and continued walking aimlessly again, not caring where his feet would take him. Now was not the time to reminisce.

Having nowhere else to go, George opened the door leading to the once forbidden corridor. But when he looked up, he stopped in his tracks. He did not remember Harry, Ron or Hermione talking about a mirror. He'd heard some people mention it, though; something about Quirrel and the Philosopher's Stone. He figured he'd ask them later.

It stood right at the end of the hallway. George inched his way over there, noting the gold tint of the mirror's frame. It was old, but still beautiful, and when he got closer, he saw the letters engraved on it.

_ Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi._

'But what does that even mean?' he mused.

He looked down, right into the mirror, and saw -

Himself.

"I don't know what I expected," he thought aloud.

He checked his watch and saw that he had been gone for half an hour. Time to head back. People might get the wrong idea if he was gone for too long.

His peers were deep in conversation when he returned. Nevertheless, they greeted him, still. He decided that now would be a good time to ask about the mirror and if it was significant to the Stone rescue. They were talking about adventures, anyway.

"Hey, when you three," he gestured to the Trio. "Went out to rescue the Philosopher's Stone, did you happen upon a mirror, by any chance?"

They froze. Of course they did. Harry used it to get the stone. So, they informed him of this, leaving the fact that it made you see what makes you truly happy. Instead, Hermione asked him, "What did you see?"

He seemed confused. He thought the answer was obvious. What, was it some kind of special mirror? Besides giving Harry the Stone, that is. What was it supposed to show you?

"Er.. Myself, what else?" he joked, but after seeing their serious faces, he added, "Why?"

The three gave each other this _look_.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, turning back to George.

"Are you.. Happy, George?"

He looked at them with a blank expression, but his eyes showed them all they needed to know. Hermione heaved a sigh, and said, "Harry will explain."

Said man nodded to George and stood up.

"Show me."

So George led him to the third floor. The whole trip was swallowed by silence. He opened the door, allowing them access to the Forbidden Corridor, where the mirror stood. Harry approached it, and looked in.

He expected what he saw. Instead of his blood relatives, his friends and parents stood there in their place, smiling at him. His mum and dad were grinning proudly at him, as were Sirius and Remus. His friends were laughing. Snape was there, too. He gave Harry a small nod. Harry's mouth twitched up.

"This," he gestured. "Is the Mirror of Erised. Those engravings right there? If you spell it backwards, it says 'I show not your face but your heart's desire.' D'you understand what that means, George?"

The boy looked at him, calculating, confused. Harry stepped back and gestured to the spot he stood on. George went there warily.

He looked in to the mirror, and his eyes widened. It was only now that he noticed the differences between him and the person on the mirror.

He noticed how the boy held a wand. How he carried a small ball of sparks which he threw and caught over and over. He noticed the 'F' weaved on to the boy's sweater, replacing the 'G' on his. He noticed how the boy had both ears.

He noticed how this boy was smiling.

His cheeks were damp. When he wiped his eyes, he realized they were tears. He was crying.

This boy was not him. No, this boy's eyes were alight, happy, encouraging.

Harry decided to leave him, tearful, as George stepped forward and placed a trembling hand on the mirror.

In between gasps and small sobs, George managed to whisper the name that was always paired with his. The name that made his complete.

"Fred."

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_A/N: Please help me on my way to becoming a better writer. I'm actually planning on getting a Wattpad account soon, and everyone knows that constructive criticism is a great guide for writers. Suggestions are also welcome._

_If you feel that something is wrong, it probably is. Please tell me. _

_If you find something you liked, please tell me._

_If you find something you didn't like, please tell me._

_Anyway! I hope I didn't disappoint you. Too much. Toodles! c:_

_Ehehe, I just typed 'toodles.'_


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